


Anything But Atonement

by brofancy



Series: Collateral Damage [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Dark?Steve, M/M, Rough Sex, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brofancy/pseuds/brofancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Steve could he'd show Tony just how angry and hurt he was in any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of completely taken out of context, so there's some things you need to know going into it: First of all, Howard is young and is the future. He built a time machine and has been trapped in 2012 for a few months now, and some...things have happened. Second of all, Steve just found out Tony's been cheating, and this isn't the first time.

Steve's phone blared to life at five-thirty AM sharp, Tony's trademark ringtone causing him to jolt straight up.

_Don't stop! Believing! Hold on to that--_

Sighing, Steve swallowed the slowly forming lump in his throat, and picked up the little device pressing the end button repeatedly long after the song had been ended.  _It's not him,_ Steve had to remind himself, glancing at the time again,  _it's just an alarm._

_...But it woke you up didn't it?_

And it did.

Hell, the only reason he even knew how to use the alarm clock function was  _because_ of Tony. Tony's own alarm clock was too complex for Steve to even begin to understand, which was why he'd opted for the cellphone's alarm to begin with.

He glanced over at the ridiculous contraption; it was probably integrated with Extremis, that would explain why the damn thing didn't have any buttons.

Scoffing, Steve rolled out of bed and meandered lazily toward the jet black dresser, pulling it open as carefully as he could. There was next to nothing inside, excluding a few pairs running shorts Steve kept tucked safely under Tony's untouched sweats, just in case.

If there was anything he needed right now it was a good long jog— _but not too long, you know how you get when you jog too long—_ something to clear his head— _or muddle it—_ just a quick one.

Pulling the short strings into a small bow tie, Steve trotted down the steps and out the front door, iPod in hand. Some light Sinatra ought to throw off his mood, he decided, trying his best to focus on anything and everything else. A passing tree maybe, an old couple settled in the window seat of a diner;  _anything._  But his mind wouldn't allow itself to stay distracted for long; cynical thoughts filtered in like a cool breeze— _of course he was cheating, why wouldn't he? Not even a perfect man could be enough, in fact, that was probably your biggest fault. You weren't adventurous enough to satisfy him if you had just...showed a little more interest in some of the little things...maybe...just maybe..._

And Steve would force himself to run a few more blocks if only because the feeling of concrete connecting with his feet was enough to call his attention to the odd shape of that cloud over there instead wandering back to the broken look on Tony's face when Steve slipped the ring off his finger.

_Not like he deserved to look upset anyways, he did this to himself. It's not hard to stay faithful. It's not hard to only be with one person. It's not hard to stop kissing other people when you love someone._

_...It shouldn't be..._

A few hours had passed and Steve knew he really ought to head back. The more he jogged the more he was forced to dig deeper into the matter; pick apart details that he really had no power over but could easily tie back to a fault of his own that really didn't exist.

Manufactured fault or not, Tony could very well have seen them and committed to the idea that he just wasn't enough. Steve Rogers just wasn't enough. That line of thinking was the exact the slippery slope he'd been trying to avoid since he'd walked out of the Avenger's Tower last night.

Right now what he needed was some mindless entertainment and a nice tall protein shake, both of which could be acquired at Stark mansion.

That notion in mind, Steve rounded the corner and began the long trek back.

–

Pealing off his sweaty shirt, Steve pushed open the bedroom door, gasping sharply as a dark figure shifted slightly from across the room.

“Je-Jeez, Tony! Couldn't warn a fella' or somehtin'?” Steve exclaimed, sounding more annoyed than playful.

“You said not to call...” he muttered, voice gruff with fatigue; and not the normal fatigue, Steve noted.

“Of course I said not to call, Tony, I—I don't even know why you're here.” 

Tony pursed his lips, momentarily, taking in the cold statement with a curt,  _pained_ bark of laughter jumping from him, “I dunno'...to plead my case I guess.”

Steve gripped the shirt in his hand a bit tighter, forcing himself to look anywhere but across the room at Tony, “Well save it...and leave for God's sake, I wouldn't be staying in your penthouse if I wasn't trying to avoid you.” Steve turned suddenly and was about to go right back out the door when he felt a cool hand around his wrist, pulling him to face the opposite direction again.

“No! God dammit, Steve I came here for a reason. You think I don't know you're pissed at me? You think I don't know I fucked up really bad? You think I don't realize you can barely look me in the eye let alone hold a conversation with me? I know, Steven, I  _know._ ”

“So why'd you do it?” he asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he'd even realized they'd been released into the air; and in the air they sat, hanging heavily over Tony's head until Steve pulled his arm away with such ease, he almost began to wonder why Tony's hand had stayed there so long in the first place—a silly thing to dwell on considering he already knew the answer.

“I...I don't know...” he mumbled, eyes falling toward the ground.

“Of course not,” Steve snapped, an undercurrent of bitterness presenting itself in the ugliest of fashions. Navigating around Tony, Steve plopped down onto the bed and slipped off his shoes.

Tony stayed perfectly still, eyes fixated on a pale patch of carpeting that he'd never noticed was part of the design.

“And why the hell would you know? That would involve Tony Stark being responsible for his actions, and that's asking a bit too much, isn't it, Stark—”

“—Shut up, Steve.”

They were both silent a long moment.

“Really? Really Tony? You wanna try that on me right now?”

Tony turned abruptly, fists curling tightly, “You're damn right I do!” His breath was picking up now, and before he knew it he was in Steve face, the man rising opposite of him, with an equally agitated look spilling over his features.

“If you just came here to argu—“

“No! No! Shut up, Steve, and let me talk! If you thought I was lying about anything I said when I proposed, you're obviously mistaken, because we both know I love you more than I know what to do with myself! The whole reason I even mentioned the...small handful of incidents...was because I wanted to be honest with you! I mean...” Tony let out a loud frustrated groan, and thrust his hands into his hair, tugging so ferociously, he was sure there would be a bald spot to view later there after, “God, Rogers! I've changed so much to please you and I'd be lying to myself if I didn't say I'm happier now! Old habits die hard and the proposal was suppose to bury all that stuff for good! You...you are...you're my  _everything,_ Steve; and the fact that you've put up with me up until this point at all is beyond me but, fuck! We're here aren't we? Almost a year and a half later and I...I mean I'm...I'm done! I don't need anyone else...I have you!”

“But that didn't stop you before.”

“No! It didn't and I—”

“—Then why should I trust you, now?”

“ **Because, dammit**! **I love you**!”

And they were both silent for a few minutes more, Steve watching Tony's chest heave up and down, and Tony watching Steve's eyes focused on something that wasn't his own.

“I'm sorry, Tony, but that doesn't change the fact that you cheated on me. Again.”

Tony's chest was swelling now, rising and falling so fast and hard, he had to part his lips just to get enough oxygen in his body.

“And what about Howard, huh? You kissed him and I—”

Steve shook his head, his own breath picking up now, “No, no, no—Tony! He kissed me!”

“ **Yes**! And you  _let_ him! I bet you weren't even thinking about me when he shoved his tongue down your—”

Before Steve could even help himself, his hand was at Tony's arm, bruising strength pulling his attention from conversation. Steve snapped his arm back down to his side, eyes piercing the older man with an intensity he couldn't quite put into words.

“Leave. Howard. Out of this.”

Tony leaned forward, breath dusting over the angry flush of Steve's face ever so gently, “And what are you gonna do, grab me again?”

Tony could almost taste the vexation on Steve's breath. Could nearly feel the heat radiating from his face. Could almost  _touch_  him.

A feral incandescence curled deep within the pit of Steve's stomach. He could feel his hand flying up to grip Tony's arm again, because honestly, he couldn't help himself, and tilting his head he leaned in just a touch more to whisper in response, “Is this what you want, Anthony? For me to hurt you like you have me?”

A physical shiver could be felt rippling through Tony's body as he nodded slowly, “...And what if I did?”

And it all came flowing from him at once, a fluid motion as he pulled Tony up by the back of his neck. He was sick with himself, and tired of his own company. It hadn't been much longer than twenty-four hours or so, and the need to just be that much closer to this ridiculous man was deferring any and all resentment floating around in the frontal half of his brain.

It was a sloppy kiss as their tongues intertwined, a throaty groan pouring from the back of Tony's throat. Steve walked the billionaire backwards, pressing harder into the already crushing kiss. He broke away with an audible gasp and flipped Tony over, pushing him against the mess of a desk he was sure he'd used maybe twice since he brought the damn thing in December. A framed picture, of Tony and his father, the one and only picture of Tony and his father, toppled to the floor, along with a few stray pens and a barely legible sketch of a new idea that had been scrapped in a matter of minutes after realizing just how useless the damn thing would've been.

Curling over the warmth of Tony's back and lower body, Steve caught either of his wrists and stretched them over the length of the polished wood, burying his face between the sweet olive skin that lined Tony's neck and shoulder, taking in the marvelous scent that was Tony Stark, and Tony alone.

It was then he recalled the previous night he'd spent cuddled in Tony's sheets, wishing that busy mess of a man had spent just a bit more time in this naked room he called his own, and a little less in that dungeon he called a work room, so at least he'd be able to bathe himself in Tony's personal aroma, as appose to the smell of fresh sheets and lavender laundry detergent.

“You make me so  _angry,_ ” Steve growled, his voice shaking rather than sounding rigid firm. “I want to  _ignore_ you...to...politely ask you to leave...to  _want_ some time away from you to think but—all I can think about is...how much you hurt me...how much you  _pissed me off_...and how much I hate it.”

That didn't stop him from rutting against Tony in slow careful jerks, pressing his half hard length against the finely tailored seam of his dress pants—his 'casual dress pants' as he so often referred to them.

“Then punish me,” Tony panted turning his head to look at Steve over his shoulder, though he wasn't having much luck with that. “Break me, Rogers; pound me into the fucking desk,” he grunted, rolling his hips backwards to meet Steve's tauntingly slow thrusts.

“It wouldn't be much of a punishment, then, now would it?” Steve asked, already snaking a hand around to tug at Tony's belt, before fingering at the button and nearly ripping the zipper clean off.

“I don't care,” he retorted, a dark laughter chasing the words out of his mouth.

“But...” Steve began, looping a finger underneath both Tony's pants and boxers, forcing them into a pool around his ankles, “...I'll hurt you.”

And Tony laughed again, “Not like you haven't before!”

Steve pressed his nose into the nape of Tony's neck again, before shaking his head in slow, languid movements. “Not like this,” he panted, pulling the string on his jogging shorts and letting the fall about his ankles, as well. Tugging at the hem of his boxers, Steve pressed their bodies closer, thrusting his cock against the bare skin of Tony's ass.

“I want it,” he panted quietly, biting back a groan, “and I know you do too.”

He did.

He wanted it so bad and just having Tony beneath him like this was driving him crazy. Just being in Tony's presence drove him crazy; and later he'd have to blame his temporary insanity for what happened next.

Spitting a few times into the palm of his hand, Steve slicked himself up, and it was so quick he almost thought,  _this won't even work._  Lo and behold, when he sent his hips thrusting forward, the initial pain was more of a shock than the sound that came from the depths of Tony's diaphragm.

“ **Fuck—Jesus fucking—fuck**!” Tony cried, with an ear-shattering ferocity.

Steve opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn't, he couldn't make a single sound with the way Tony was puckered around him. It was then that he realized he hadn't wanted to apologize in the first place, this was Tony's punishment and with the way he was already moving his hips ever so slightly, he would probably be enjoying it in no time.

“ **God, dammit** , that shit fucking hurts, Steve move, fucking  _move already!_ ” Tony cursed, tears pricking either of his eyes.

Steve wrapped his hands around Tony's hips and pulled out as much as he possibly could, wincing at the sheer force this man could muster up with only his bottom, and thrust in again,  _hard._

“ **Fuck**!” Tony cried again, voice softer this time with a smidgen more pain than pleasure coloring it. “It hurts so fucking bad, Steve but please don't stop moving,” he nearly sobbed, locking his fingers around the edge of the desk.

Steve offered a small grunt in response, pulling his hips away again before snapping them forward to meet Tony's, a loud slapping sound ricocheting off each of the four walls. If he said one thing, Steve knew he'd regret it.

“It feels like it's tearing,” Tony added, sucking in a breath that was almost too broken to sound like a gasp. Steve slipped his eyes shut, not wanting to see if Tony was really crying or if his mind was just playing tricks on him— _Oh don't play dumb, Rogers, you know you're hurting him. But this is what he wants, just keep going._

And despite every logical and reasonable voice in his head, saying stop! You're better than this! This isn't even you! Stop right here! Steve drove his hips in again, and again, and again. Tony's whines, slowly but surely, began to contort into gasps, and then soft moans.

The moans grew louder and louder as Steve's pace picked up, drilling him into a numb state of pleasure against the polished oak wood. Steve reached around to fist Tony's bobbing erection, but he groaned in defiance, lazily moving a hand to swat at Steve's arm.

“Okay, fine then,” Steve muttered through clenched teeth, feeling the tight knots beginning to unravel in the bowels of his stomach. “No!” he grunted, slowing his pace to thrust harder, pulling a pained moan Tony each time, “You'll cum when I tell you, Anthony!” And with that he gripped the base of Tony's cock and began to stroke him rapidly.

“ _F-Fuck_! Fuck!  _Steve_! Fuck!” Tony howled, arching upward as his moans slurred together with Steve's own. Tony's legs went limp as he shot across the floor in short bursts.

Steve thrust his arm beneath Tony's waist just as he felt like he was going to go down completely before slamming into him a final time, cumming with a sharp cry.

For what seemed like forever, Steve's mind was purely blank, gliding on the temporary high that came with a good orgasm.

"I'm...still...mad at you..." Steve mumbled, panting against Tony's back.

"I think I'm...bleeding..." he offered in response, "but it could just be your cum...it's...hard to tell..."

**Author's Note:**

> I could possibly write a few prequels to this.


End file.
